


Come Around

by red_crate



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Blow Jobs, Canadian Blowjob Day, Drunken Shenanigans, First Kiss, First Meetings, First Time, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, Light Angst, M/M, One Night Stands, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, spitting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-20 02:15:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20667644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/red_crate/pseuds/red_crate
Summary: Patrick makes a deal with himself to try and kiss the hot guy if his team wins this round of Beer Pong.Patrick’s team wins.





	Come Around

**Author's Note:**

> All the thanks to Rosebudd. Y’all are amazing and I love you. 
> 
> Canadian blowjob Day was a flimsy excuse to write more sex. There’s no ice or maple syrup, but two boys enjoying first time blowjobs. Hopefully, you like that sort of thing.

With a shout, the game ends and Patrick throws his arms up in victory. His throat is rough around the edges where it doesn’t feel curiously numb. Patrick definitely drank too much alcohol, but it’s worth it because  _ he won the game _ . 

“Baby Brewer!” One of the blonde guy’s on his team yells, coming over to double high-five Patrick. “You did it!”

He returns the happy yell, ignoring the slight roll his stomach makes at the impact of their bodies. 

The nickname is annoying, and doesn’t make any sense considering he’s an only child and as far as he knows, there are no other Brewers on his team. But a bunch of the older kids have been calling the freshmen some variation of “baby.” 

Patrick remembers the promise he made to himself a half hour ago. He detangles himself from the arm now draped over his shoulder and looks around to see if the guy he’d been playing against is anywhere nearby. Another game of beer pong is already being set up, but he ignores the Guy’s insisting he play. 

“Hey,” he starts but cuts himself off when he doesn’t see the guy—the one he’s been stealing looks at for what feels like all night. 

A black and white sweater disappears up the stairs from the basement. Patrick pushes his way across the floor and upwards, following until he’s able to take hold of the guy’s elbow. 

“Wait,” he rushes to say, desperate. “Hey. Hi.”

The guy turns back to him, eyebrows raised and mouth open in an offended O. Patrick’s eyes get stuck there and he watches as the guy demands, “ _ What _ ?” 

Patrick finds himself grinning maybe a little stupidly at the overreaction, at himself for being so  _ stupidly _ determined. He steps closer to the guy so he won’t have to speak loudly to be heard over the Ying Yang Twins song blasting through the living room. 

He says, “I’m Patrick.” 

“Not Baby Brewer?” The guy smirks down at him. “I thought that was your name.”

Patrick shrugs. “Those guys, I don’t know. It’s a joke I guess. Dumb.” When the guy glances down at where Patrick’s hand is still on his arm, Patrick drops it and says, “Now it’s your turn to say ‘nice to meet you, Patrick. My name is...’” 

The guy’s smirk dips down. His eyes are really dark. “I don’t know if it’s nice to meet you, though.” 

Patrick feels his stomach lurch again, but it’s not because of the alcohol. He feels his neck warm when he says, “Promise it is.” He wants to reach out and touch the guy when he gets a small little hum in return. 

“C’mon,” Patrick doesn’t know what he’s doing, just that he’s desperate to keep the momentum going. “I wanna show you something.” 

“I don’t know.” The guy shifts into his back foot, away from Patrick as his gaze wavers somewhere behind Patrick. Maybe he has friends nearby. He probably does. 

Patrick reaches out like he wanted to, and circles his hand around one of the guy’s wrists. His sweater sleeves are pushed up so Patrick finds out just how soft and warm the inside of his wrist is. Patrick implores, “Please?” 

The guy sucks in his bottom lip, teeth scraping over the flesh. His gaze flicks between Patrick’s and down to where Patrick is holding onto him. “Are you going to keep groping me if I say no?” 

The question doesn’t come out like a normal one. Something about it lands as flirtation to Patrick and a thrill shoots through him. He shrugs, smiling softly. “What’s your name?” 

“David.” Patrick finally gets an answer. David rolls his eyes. “What do you want to show me?” 

Patrick smirks and takes a chance. He tugs David behind him, navigating them through the living room and up the stairs. The whole time, he’s praying to anyone listening that he finds what he’s looking for while part of him wonders if it’s a  _ good idea _ . The determined streak in him tells the doubting one to shut the fuck up. 

The first doorknob he tries miraculously opens and he half tumbles into what turns out to be a small laundry room. The light is off and it smells like Gain laundry soap in there. Patrick shuts the door behind them. 

“This,” he answers David’s question too late. The word hangs in the air between them as Patrick freezes up. He can’t see David very well, even with the streetlight slanted through the blinds of the small window on the far wall. 

His hands itch to pull David down, touch the soft looking hair at the back of David’s head. He doesn’t move. 

A hand comes up and wraps behind his neck. Patrick thinks David’s fingers might have been shaking, and the thought makes something inside loosen. David’s thumb presses in front his ear as Patrick tips his head up before he even realizes what he’s doing. 

“This?” David whispers, breath brushing across Patrick’s lips before he leans in and their mouths touch. 

For a half second, the kiss is barely there, but then Patrick pushes into it and David meets him with the same energy. The shock of arousal that jolts through Patrick knocks him on his metaphorical ass. He hadn’t known a kiss could feel like this. He had wondered,  _ but he hadn’t known _ . 

Too soon, David is pulling back. There in the dark, the sound of their breath is loud, almost visceral. Patrick’s fingers are twisted up in the material of David’s sweater. 

“I really wanted to do that,” Patrick finds himself confessing into the inky darkness around them. 

David makes a half formed distressed noise. He asks, “Oh? How long?” 

Patrick thinks back a couple hours to the first glimpse of David he’d had, walking through the kitchen earlier. David has been talking animatedly, using his whole body, with a dark haired girl. They were idly sucking down green party shots, and Patrick had tracked the way David’s pink tongue chased the jello out of one of the little cups. 

Patrick counters David’s question and parrots it right back. “How long have you wanted to kiss  _ me _ ?” His skin feels like it’s blushing. He doesn’t know where this depth of confidence has come from, but he decides to go with it. “Since you first saw me, right?” 

“The first time I saw you, there was beer was running down your chin,” David points out, like that is obviously a turn off. Patrick doesn’t think it is. 

He reaches up to wipe at his neck, thinking about how fast he’d been chugging the beer down earlier. His skin feels sticky there. David’s fingers come up, tentative as he drags them down the length of Patrick’s neck. Patrick feels every nanosecond of touch and it’s the hottest thing he’s ever experienced. 

He’s blushing for sure now, standing there in an empty laundry room of some frat house he may or may not actually want to pledge. 

Patrick finds himself saying, “You still kissed me.” The tease comes out more awed than he intended. “Sloppy mouth and all.”

The hand David used to touch Patrick’s neck clutches at Patrick’s blue tee shirt. He doesn’t say anything. He leans in and kisses Patrick  _ again _ . It’s a shock all over, and Patrick can’t hold back the moan the touch pulls out of him. The sound is swallowed up by David. His tongue traces along Patrick’s lips and coaxes him willingly open. 

David lets Patrick back him up against the nearest vertical surface which happens to be a table. A frenzy of need courses through Patrick at the feel of David under his hands, of David’s big hands sliding beneath the hem of his shirt and up Patrick’s back. This feels like a dream. It seems like it should be impossible for him to be so turned on and so  _ alive _ just from making out. 

He turns his head so he can kiss down David’s chin and neck. The stubble there makes his lips buzz and sting. He drags his teeth lightly over the hard curve of David’s jaw and licks over the course hair. When David moans, Patrick echoes him. David’s blunt nails drag down Patrick’s back and skim to the front of Patrick’s jeans where David’s fingers tuck inside. 

“Whoa,” Patrick pulls back to whisper to himself, blinking up at the dim form of David’s face. He holds his breath when one of David’s hands presses down and curves to the shape of his cock. Patrick makes a low, wanting noise as his hips naturally buck into the pressure. 

David sucks in a breath before quietly asking, “This okay?” As Patrick enthusiastically nods his head, David’s fingers move to shakily unfasten the button and pull down the zipper of Patrick’s jeans. “I...”

wishes he was brave enough to reach over and flip the light switch so he could see David sliding down to his knees. His hands come up and he grabs at the back of his neck, overwhelmed by the knowledge that this is happening. All he’d been hoping for was a kiss from a cute guy. 

“Uh,” he pants, shutting his eyes tight when he feels his jeans being tugged open and down his legs. David’s fingers press into the muscle at the top of his thighs. 

“I’ve never,” David whispers so quietly Patrick almost doesn’t hear it. The fingers pressing into his skin leave. “Just let me know—“

“You don’t have to,” Patrick reassures David, throat tight at just the thought. He thinks about how put-together and unaffected David had seemed all night. Hearing the doubt in his voice makes something ease in Patrick. 

David’s fingers come back to peel down the top of Patrick’s underwear. “No,” he says with feeling, almost offended. He corrects his tone, softer, saying, “No, let me.” He clears his throat. “If that’s okay.” 

“It, uh, it is.” Patrick is worried he’s going to embarrass himself before David even has a chance to give it a shot. He can feel the warmth of David’s breath on his cock. It makes him twitch and bite back a groan. 

He ends up groaning when David’s fingers curl around the base of his cock. David slowly strokes it, like he’s getting a feel for the size and weight. He isn’t hesitant about it, thumb rubbing over the end when David’s hand twists up to the head. It’s good. It’s  _ really _ good, and David’s barely even done anything. 

Patrick drops his right hand down to David’s shoulder in a concession to the antsy and needy feeling crawling through him, something to anchor himself. David’s tongue is the next thing he feels, warm and wet as it drags up the length before pressing over the crown. 

“Jesus,” Patrick breathes. His fingers dig into the ridge of muscle on David’s shoulder. He doesn’t mean to do it, but he thinks he’s wrinkling the material there. 

David keeps licking and stroking, paying attention to every place that feels best. The feeling makes Patrick’s legs quiver. He doesn’t think anyone has ever spent so long making sure the slide is so good. Maybe David is working himself up to it. The thought of being on his knees for David, reciprocating, is as alluring as it is scary. He doesn’t think he’d be half as good at even this. 

“Okay,” David whispers again, too soft and low. It’s a warning and an agreement. 

He sucks Patricks cock almost half way and gags on it when it hits the back of his throat. Patrick is quick to apologize uselessly when David pulls off and coughs. 

“Are you o—“ Patrick cuts himself off with a moan when David goes back down. David gets a good rhythm set up without pushing himself farther than he can comfortably go. “Oh fuck. Okay, yeah. Yup, you’re doing good.” 

David fucking hums around his mouthful, and Patrick shoves his hips forward accidentally, body demanding more. When his hips are shoved back by two strong hands, Patrick moans loose and loudly at the feeling. His own fingers trail up David’s neck to the back of his head where the hair is just as soft as Patrick had imagined it to be. It’s damp with sweat when Patrick drags his nails over David’s scalp. 

More humming and David pulls off to make a high pitched little whine that drives a hot flicker of power and need through Patrick. David doesn’t say anything, but when Patrick tentatively tugs on a handful of hair, he chokes back another sound. 

“Fuck that’s hot,” Patrick says without meaning too, feels dirty for it. But he  _ likes _ it. He thinks he likes how this feels—this uncharted dance they’re navigating together. 

David agrees with a small “mhmm” before he licks at the flare of Patrick’s cock head then takes it back into his mouth. Patrick’s fingers spasm in David’s hair, pulling and gripping tight to keep from pushing. He’s never been this desperate for anyone like he is for this stranger—for David—right now. 

He can feel the way David breathes carefully and swallows as his head bobs up and down. It’s like David is trying to figure out how to go lower, to open up his throat so Patrick can slide inside even farther. It’s messy and there in the dark, the sloppy sounds seem louder than possible, hotter and more urgent as every sensation presses in on Patrick. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he cant stop cursing. “Fuck, I’m...” 

Patrick gives a weak attempt at pulling David off before he starts to come, but David doubles down on the suction. He presses forward and reaches down to cup Patrick’s balls as he attempts to ride through Patrick’s orgasm. 

It feels like he’s coming and coming, but it can’t be  _ that _ much. He jerked off in the shower less than six hours ago. Patrick nearly buckles in half with the force of it though. He has to reach for the table behind David to keep from falling to the floor. 

When there’s nothing left of Patrick but warm satisfaction, he feels David pull back. David’s hands leave his slowly softening cock. Letting go of the hold on David’s hair is more effort than Patrick expects. He cards his fingers through it one more time before awkwardly shuffling to the side so he can finally fall to the floor with some semblance of dignity. The tile is cold against his bare ass. 

With a distressed noise, David sits up on his knees and reaches for something that turns out to be a small waste basket where he spits. Patrick blushes hard, staring in David’s direction and still wishing he could see better. 

“Sorry,” David’s voice is husky. Patrick thinks it sounds like  _ sex _ . “I know that’s rude, but, um, the texture is  _ a lot _ ?” 

Patrick really doesn’t care that David didn’t swallow. He’s still reeling over the fact that someone as hot as David gave him a fucking blow job. Hell, he’s still in shock that he  _ kissed _ a guy. Finally. Shaking his head, Patrick pulls up his jeans and underwear so his skin isn’t sticking to the floor anymore. He turns so he’s facing David, reaches out to drag a hand up one of David’s thighs. 

“Thank you,” he says, maybe too earnestly, but it  _ is _ earnest. Post orgasm, he finds words easier and his brain slower to judge what he wants to say. So he says, “That was...incredible. Thank you.” 

“Okay, it was  _ just _ a blowjob,” David counters. His voice sounds higher now, almost stressed. When Patrick finds his cheek with his other hand, David’s jaw feels clenched. 

Patrick shakes his head. Before he can think better of it, he confesses, “That was my first one from a guy. And,” he blows out a huff of air, “I think you helped me settle something pretty firmly.” 

His fingers move when David smiles, and a new kind of warmth blooms inside Patrick. He listens to David ask, “What did I help settle?” He knows it’s flirting, teasing now. It’s a relief to know David’s defensiveness is gone. 

Patrick clears his throat and does his best to smoothly swing his leg over David’s. He plants himself in David’s lap, taking a moment to orient the feeling of being spread over someone that way. 

He holds David’s face with one hand and reaches between them with the other to touch lightly over David’s groin. Leaning in so their lips are barely touching, Patrick says, “I am definitely gay.” 

He kisses the laughter off David’s lips, kisses him until David is squirming beneath him and straining his hips up into Patrick’s palm. David fucks his tongue into Patrick’s mouth. The taste of his own release still lingers there, and Patrick moans at the physical reminder of what just happened. 

After nipping at David’s bottom lip, Patrick asks, “Can I touch you?” He rocks the heel of his palm down so it rubs over the head of David’s cock. 

“I might die if you don’t,” David announces as his hands come down from where they’d been clutching at Patrick’s shoulders. He gets the fastening undone and pushes the fabric out of the way helpfully. 

Patrick tries to be as smooth as David had been about touching another guy’s dick, but he still hesitates. Just for a moment though, then he’s wrapping his fingers around David’s shaft. It feels similar, familiar, even if it isn’t anything like touching himself—no loop of feedback from touching and being touched. But Patrick likes how David’s hip cant towards his hand and the sharp intake of breath David sucks down. It makes Patrick feel in control. He knows what to do here. 

“Oh my god.” The words are whispered as David reaches up to grab the lip of the table above them. “Keep doing that.” 

Patrick wants to, but he wants to do more than that. What if this is his only chance? What if he can’t talk himself into going for it ever again, not in the sober light of day. He’s a go-getter, but this feels so much bigger than he can handle alone. 

“Hold on,” he says. As he leans down, he complains to himself, “Shoulda found a bedroom.” 

He bends down and braces a hand on the floor next to David while he holds David’s cock by the base. It’s warm and soft-hard when he gets his mouth around David’s cock. He feels flush, like he’s going to melt right through the floor. He can’t believe he’s doing this. 

He really likes it. 

From a distance, Patrick hears David say, “Like actually gay.” His hands flutter around Patrick’s hair and shoulders before one large hand lands lightly on the back of his neck. David doesn’t push him down to force Patrick to try taking more. He says, “Oh my god,” again. 

Patrick doesn’t try going down very far. He decides to suck on the head and swirl his tongue around the way he knows he likes. Keeping his hand in rhythm with the up and down of his head takes more concentration than he expects. It doesn’t feel like  _ he’s _ being sexy, but he thinks it feels sexy to do this—lick and suck and earn those little hitched noises from David. He twists his head to the side on an upstroke, sucking hard and accidentally pulling off with an obscenely loud “pop” noise. David  _ whines _ . 

“Please, please.” David’s hand rubs back and forth encouragingly across Patrick’s back. His hips stay down, but Patrick can feel the tension in David’s legs. When Patrick goes back down, he keeps doing that twisting thing, rubbing his thumb along the root of David’s cock above his balls. 

When David comes, it seems sudden and almost violent as it rips through him. His warning is cut off by a groan, but he taps Patrick several times. It’s enough for Patrick to realize he needs to pull off. 

“Wow,” Patrick says as he sits up on his knees. His lips are buzzing, jaw feeling used in an obvious way that highlights how he’s never exerted himself this way before now. 

He can’t see David coming, but he can hear the sudden silence as David holds his breath before another whine spills out of him. Patrick licks his lips and swallows over and over, wondering what he would have done if David had come in his mouth. 

It reminds him that there is a mess now. He blindly searches around until he finds a towel sitting in a basket nearby. The laundry smells clean, probably just waiting to be folded and put away. He hands the towel over to David. 

“Thank you,” David says quietly. He must clean himself off quickly, because Patrick can just make out the movement of David fastening his pants up again before David stands. 

Patrick follows him up. It’s over. 

“Thanks,” he says again. He straightens out the front of his jeans just so his hands stay busy. 

David doesn’t say anything long enough that Patrick starts to feel awkward. It makes Patrick feel the need to fill the silence, to explain himself some more to this stranger who he knows he’s going to be thinking about much more than he should—thinking about him for a longer time frame than he probably should. 

“I, um, sort of made a deal with myself that if my team won the game I would try and kiss you,” Patrick admits. He feels foolish, but mostly it feels freeing to say it out loud. “I really wanted to kiss you.” 

David hums. “We did a lot more than kiss.” The words come out teasing and sultry. 

Patrick runs a hand down the back of his neck, pleased. “Yeah, we did. Thanks for that too.” 

He’s pushed back suddenly, pushed against the other wall by David. Their mouths press together, uncoordinated in the too-dim light, but  _ perfectly.  _

David pulls back and says, “You’re welcome.” 

Patrick wakes up the next morning, hung over and head pounding, but the first thing he thinks is:  _ I’m definitely gay _ . It’s triumphant and secretive, his own truth settled inside. 

There’s a number scrawled in permanent ink on the side of his palm signed with  _ David.  _

He saves it in his phone. 


End file.
